


As a Lady Desires

by valley21



Category: Twilight
Genre: 1890s, All Human, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ballroom Dancing, Belle Epoque, Cheating, Chicago (City), Drinking, F/M, Gilded Age, Gossip, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mistress, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Socialites - Freeform, Stolen Moments, Violence, the belle epoque
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20100892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valley21/pseuds/valley21
Summary: All Human, Alternate Universe. Bella, an wealthy urban socialite, is unhappily married to Jacob Black. Unimpressed with his lack of drive, her privileged life in 1890s Chicago grows boring until a pair of newcomers enter the social stage in the booming Metropolis. From the moment she was introduced to the up and coming department store magnate at her best friend's birthday ball, she was enamored with the elusive Mr. Edward Mason. Is he the thing she has been looking for to finally upend her life with excitement and the desires of her heart, or will his jealous wife, Victoria put a wrench in things? Gilded Age Chicago.





	1. Chapter 1

I placed the pearl and tortoise shell comb, a gift from my husband, into my hair before sitting back to admire the finished product. My maid, Bree, has gotten so good at crafting all the latest styles, even with my hair which normally is not happy to cooperate with the hot curler. But tonight I’m thankful that is has, and just know it is going to be perfect for the ball we are to attend this evening.

My absolute dearest friend, the lovely Alice Whitlock, turned 23 this week and her darling husband is throwing the party in her honor. It will be filled with the well to do of the town and will surely be the talk of the social columns in the papers come tomorrow morning. Alice and Jasper’s parties always create a wonderful stir amongst society’s finest and I am certain tonight will be no different. 

When I stand up before the gilt mirror in my dressing room my gown falls perfectly in place. I cannot believe my luck that it was finished in time for this event. After all, the gown had to first come all the way from Paris before it spent ample time with my seamstress to alter and get the fit correct for my measurements. The silk of the gown is like water in both color and texture, clinging perfectly to my corseted form, while the bodice is covered in glittering diamonds and pearls and decorated with flowing lace. It will certainly sparkle brilliantly in the Whitlock’s newly electrified ballroom. Mr. Worth sure knows how to design the perfect evening gown.

Without my needing to prompt her, Bree reentered my dressing room with my crushed velvet and brown mink lined cape and my silk evening gloves. I slip the gloves up both of my arms while she secures the cape around my shoulders to ward off the early winter chill. I normally would have worn a bonnet but opted not to for fear of messing up the intricate and well-fought for hairstyle I was sporting. 

“Thank you Bree. I expect we will be home sometime near midnight. If you can make sure the fires are stoked until then,” I start requesting of her as I walk out of the room and begin my descent down the marble staircase. “And I’m sure Jacob will be up even later in his study. Do see that there is a fresh decanter of his favorite whiskey waiting for him.”

I tell her all of these things even whilst knowing that she already knows the deal. Bree has been with us long enough to remember that after a long night of drinking and social interaction, there is nothing my husband wants to do more than to come home for more drinking in isolation.

Of course it suits me just fine, the isolation he gives himself at home when he drinks. He can get mean sometimes when he is drunk and I would rather not get caught in the crosshairs. I prefer him when he is completely sober. Then he is an absolute doll to me, gentle and caring like before we were married, back when we were just best friends. But give him a few too many glasses of whiskey and it is another story completely. 

Tonight though, I really hope he can manage to hold it together during the party. I am not exactly in the mood to babysit and keep him from making a fool of himself in front of his friends. 

He is already waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me, dressed to the nines in his three piece tuxedo with his black silky top hat clasped in his hands. He offered me a smile as he donned the hat in time for our butler to open the front door, allowing the brisk chill of late November into the entryway. I clutched my mink closer and offered him my hand before he led the pair of us through the door and down the few steps towards our awaiting carriage. 

The ride to the Whitlock’s mansion was not too far and definitely a journey we might have made on foot if it were not for the cold weather and the finery we were dressed in. When our carriage came to a stop in front of their home, there were already several other coaches I recognized lined up down the block. Clearly we were not the first to arrive. I reached into Jacob’s breast pocket for his watch to ensure the time was correct before quickly exiting the carriage, with some help from our coachman. 

Alice was sure to be in a tizzy with me for arriving late to her birthday party. I moved from foot to foot on the threshold, both from cold and impatience while my husband seemed to take his sweet time before joining me and ringing the bell. The door opened almost immediately and we were greeted by their kindly butler, Mr. Randall. The man took the mink from my shoulders before escorting us down a long ornate hallway to the ballroom. It was all a formality of course considering I knew Alice and Jasper’s home as well as my own.

My lovely friend was waiting, surrounded by many of our other socialite friends. I hurried into the circle, an apologetic smile on my lips as I rushed to embrace her carefully. Her dress was gorgeous of course, a shimmering vision of dark emerald green silk and black lace accents. Black lace was truly in season this year.

“Happy birthday darling,” I told her after kissing both of her cheeks lightly, “I’m so sorry we’re late. I had Bree fuss over my hair for longer than I expected…”

Thankfully Alice was quick to forgive my transgression with a playful smile. “Do not even worry about it dear, I am just so glad you are finally here,” her eyes darted to the other women beside us before she dropped her voice so only I could hear. “You know how droll I find it to be alone with them all.”

We both giggled tactfully into our gloved hands before spreading back into the circle and allowing the conversation to flow freely. I looked around and spied a few other groups of people who had cordoned themselves off. My husband was with his usual band of friends, all fellow sons of trust funds. Some worked, and some, like my husband, did not. I sighed inwardly. Jacob would be so much less miserable if he got back to work. What good was a law degree from a prestigious university if one stopped working almost immediately after a large payout?

I try not to think too much about his lack of career ambitions. We will both live at our current level of luxurious comfort until old age between Jacob’s trust and my own, as well as the investments that have been made on both our behalves. So it is not that Jacob has to work, but a part of me thinks that there should be some desire in a man to work for his living. 

I get pulled out of my train of thought by the ladies whispering about an expected arrival to the party. Apparently Jasper has recently become acquaintances with some new money in town, a local up and coming merchant and his wife. They have been invited tonight and everyone, well the ladies at the very least, seem to be dying for the couple to arrive. Likely to size up the Misses for entry into the inner circle of society women. But also more than likely to see what the merchant magnate looks like. If only money was the solitary requirement to getting on everyone’s good side. I am certain the criticisms will be harsh regardless.

Before anymore gossip about the mystery couple can be shared, the orchestra hired for the night play a few notes to get the attendees attention. Once everyone is facing in the same direction, Alice and Jasper float to the middle of the room to speak to the invited guests. 

“I would like to start the night by thanking all of our dear family and friends for coming out to celebrate my darling wife’s birthday,” his eyes were glued to Alice and filled with love and adoration. Even after four years of marriage they were still very much in love like they were when they first met. “It is an honor to have you all with us and I am certain we will all have a very entertaining night,” he finished his brief speech by raising the crystal glass of whiskey in his hand to the crowd before taking a brief sip.

This was the orchestra’s cue to begin playing their lineup for the evening, starting off with a light waltz. Some couples filtered onto the dance floor to begin the festivities, but I stay attached to the retinue of ladies. A footmen brought over a silver tray of wine glasses to my gaggle of ladies and I took a crystal goblet and began to drink and watch the dancers. 

Jacob was not much for dancing and I’ve grown accustomed to sitting out the couples dances. Though anytime there are group fetes, I’m more than happy to partake. Occasionally a gentleman--sometimes single, sometimes married--will ask for a dance, both cases of which I am happy to oblige. A small part of me always hopes it will inspire some passionate jealousy in my husband and shake him into action. But it usually never does.

I’m shaken from my musings by the sudden increase in chatter from the ladies. My brown eyes dart to the ballroom entrance, where they’re all staring and prattling on about who I can only assume must be the Masons. While I’m not typically happy to be an accessory to gossip, I do manage to listen in closely to hear about these additions. 

Apparently Mr. Mason bought out a small dry goods store in town but up until recently he has been doing business from afar. Once his shop started making a respectable amount of money, the couple sold everything else and moved into town and have been here for only a few weeks now. Irina, the loudest of the mouths, somehow knows where they live already; a new brownstone in the South Loop’s up and coming area. Clearly the couple is doing more than well for themselves since settling their business here. Father always said Chicago would be a city to attract the best and brightest of our generation. 

Without my realizing it I have gone on my tiptoes, trying to see about the crowd to get a real peek at the Masons. I am generally curious to know what they will look like, especially considering they have almost certainly not been born into the wealth and refinement that everyone else here is accustomed to. I catch the briefest kint of copper hair capped with a grey top hat, and beside it a fiery shock of red hair, perfectly styled and piled high according to the latest trend. Unfortunately I’m not quite tall enough to see much else. Pity.

It is probably for the best. I’ll be one less pair of heavily scrutinizing eyes, looking for faults and shortcomings on the couple.

“Did you see them?” Alice is suddenly at my side and grabs my elbow gently to get my attention. 

I quickly shake my head. “I just saw hair. They’re both redheads it seems. How novel…” I remark, my eyes betraying me and scanning the area where I thought the couple might have settled.

“Yes, Jasper told me they were a bit odd in that respect. Edward is his name and I think his wife is named Victoria,” she offered with a slight shrug of her shoulders. 

“And why has Jasper been hiding the Masons from everyone for almost a month?” I raised a brow at her, curious as to the oddity of this sudden grand unveiling of the latest additions to Chicago high society. 

It was Alice’s turn to shake her head while a soft giggle left her mouth. A quick glance around me told me the other ladies of our group were keyed into our conversation and listening intently to get all the information they could on the Masons. 

“Jasper said that Mr. Mason has been trying to keep a low profile while he got some business dealings in order. Jasper has been helping him get registered with city hall and all that since he’s such good friends with Mayor Swift and all of his people,” she tossed her gloved hand up to dismiss the secrecy of it all. 

“Hmm...it still seems rather odd though. Does it not strike you as quite funny that no one has really seen or heard them after being in the city for a whole month?” I countered, becoming painfully curious as the mystery surrounding the Mason’s arrival in town. Perhaps we were all being silly for reading so much into it all. Alice simply shrugged her shoulders. She had no more information to give and clearly neither did the other ladies. The best we could all hope for now was to interact with either of them and get the information we all craved straight from the source.

We would only have to wait a bit longer to learn about the Masons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Masons, the oddest couple at the party.

Jasper himself brought the unlikely couple of the hour towards the group of ladies to make introductions to his wife, and vis a vis all the other gawking women. I pushed myself into position just behind and to the side of my best friend, hoping my face expressed a falsified air of indifference.

While I did not long to be like the other socialites in our circle, who waited for gossip like a pack of starving dogs and with as much subtlety, I still desperately wanted to know the deal with the Masons.

I think I heard an audible gasp from behind me as the couple finally came into view of the collective.

The Masons were both breathtakingly gorgeous. The red hair on Mrs. Mason was even more vibrant up close and it was a sharp contrast from her fashionably pale skin and bright blue eyes framed with black lashes and softly curved eyebrows. I did not let my eyes linger on her for too long, lest I start to compare myself to her.

Mr. Mason on the other hand, was just as gorgeous but in a much different way. Having removed his hat, I could see his bronze kissed hair has the slightest curl to it, and was parted neatly off the side. He had a lovely mustache, slightly darker than the hair on his head and curved up on the ends. Very handsome and perfectly in tune with the styles of the men around him.

Of course they were both dressed just as sharply. Mrs. Mason was in deep blue velvet gown that covered and clung to her body modestly, and simultaneously left nothing to the imagination. The fabric had a beautiful lustre to it, deep and dark and yet the electric lights brought a brightness to the parts it touched so that she was both light and dark all at once. Her husband's three piece suit was well tailored and fit his physique to the nines, the wool a charcoal grey that stood out slightly from the sea of black around him. Beautiful they were, and _odd._

"Darling," Jasper cleared his throat slightly, managing to cut through the stunned silence rather quickly from there, drawing his attention to his wife who was also gawking somewhat unabashedly at the couple still. Once he had her complete attention again he continued. "Alice I would like to introduce you to Mr. Edward Mason and his wife, Victoria."

Alice, her cheeks flushed slightly at having been caught staring, but quickly recovered by smiling brightly and bowing her head slightly as she offered her hand to Mr. Mason. He took her gloved hand lightly and brushed his lips before letting it go. Her eyes turned to Mrs. Mason and she offered the woman an equally bright smile, "Welcome to Chicago. We're very happy to have you here this evening, and it's so nice to finally meet you."

"We were enchanted when Jasper invited us Mrs. Whitlock," Edward acknowledged Alice's greeting for the both of them, his wife standing silent, appraising. She would be a tough sell for this lot, I could already tell.

Once more back in hostess mode, Alice began introductions for the gaggle of women surrounded her.

"This is Mrs. Isabella Black," she gestured to me and I took the opportunity to bow my head in acknowledgement to the couple before Alice continued down the line of the society ladies of Chicago.

While Alice continued the introductions, I took another moment to silently stare at the fascinating couple. I could tell there was a bit of an age difference between the pair; Mr. Mason had smile lines around his mouth and some crinkles around his eyes and now that I was closer I could see that the dark bronze of his mustache and hair were kissed with a spattering of lighter grey. He was clearly an established man who worked too much. Especially compared to the youthful Victoria.

There was not a crease or imperfection in her porcelain skin. She did not look like she smiled, let alone went through any sort of progression to her current age. Even I had had issues as a girl with blemishes that my mother scolded me for and which traces of lingered to this day so that I had to add extra enamel powder rouge to hide them. But no, Mrs. Mason had smooth, glowing skin that shone in the gaslights of the ballroom unlike the somewhat pallid powdered ladies that surrounded us. There was not a touch of makeup on her face, save for a kiss of red on her lips and perhaps the faintest rouge enhanced flush to her cheeks.

I quickly looked away from her beauty. Already I could sense the apprehension in the other women around me as they continued to stare at her long after the introductions were over. It felt like the hackles of a dog began to stand on every onlooking woman present. Mrs. Mason clearly put us all to shame, especially with her queer hair color that was now the envy of every woman in the room. The blonde women wished to be brunette, and that suited the brunettes fine. But now, now they all wanted to have hair like fire. But what did one put in their hair to make it such a fiery color?

"As I was telling Mr. Mason, you ladies should put on another of your society tea events so that Mrs. Mason will have a chance to start socializing," Jasper broke through all the heavy eyed stares and slightly awkward silence, directing his thoughts to his wife and by extension myself.

I cleared my throat and nodded, not waiting for anyone to speak up to the contrary. While our teas were not something we typically held publicly, after all it was usually just our so-called inner circle that attended them, it might be good for all the ladies to move out of their comfort zone.

"Of course, you know Alice and I were talking about having a little tea just last week, and I'm slated to host the next one," I smiled at the Masons, hoping my facial expression remained unaffected by the growing hostility I could feel blooming around me. "We would love to have you Mrs. Mason, it's so lovely to have a new face and hopefully some new thoughts to add to our conversations."

Alice gave me a slight look of relief that I had jumped in. It was clear that her husband had been keeping the Masons under wraps and hadn't shared their oddness with her in preparation for the evening.

"I would appreciate that Mrs. Black," Victoria turned the corners of her lips up ever so slightly so that you might've missed it if you hadn't been staring carefully. No wonder she was able to afford such smooth skin.

She said nothing more about the proposal and I wondered to myself if she would have such few words should she actually participate in a tea gathering. The other ladies wouldn't take kindly to a newcomer infiltrating our circle and then not evening having the decency to add anything meaningful to it all.

"Well, that's that then. Alice," Jasper turned to his wife and offered her his arm, "I think it's about time I led you for a birthday dance." And just like that the pair floated away, leaving us ladies and the Masons alone.

While I felt slightly peeved at being left to deal with the gaggle of silly women flanking me, I was slightly glad of what I hoped would provide a distraction from the whole business. Luckily for me, the Masons caught the hint and Mr. Mason began to guide his wife away, likely in search of a drink and more introductions.

Immediately the lions circled me with questions in their eyes. Irina and Rosalie are the first to voice their disapproval.

"Did you see that woman? You want to have tea with her?" Irina questioned, a blonde eyebrow shot up.

"They are not like us Isabella," Rosalie tutted in, shaking her head so that a few strands of her golden hair tumbled out of her coif. "Who knows where they came from before this-"

"Cleveland, Ohio, so I've heard," Irina interjected. I didn't have the energy to question how she knew such a thing and Rosalie didn't allow another interruption.

"Exactly. Ohio. Cleveland? What sort of backwater is that? Have you ever heard of anyone from Cleveland? I surely haven't. Have you ladies?" Rosalie questioned me and the ladies surrounding us. They all of course shook their heads.

"It doesn't matter where they're from. They seem like respectable people," I shrugged slightly. Of course the item of their fixation would be on where the Masons came from. Cleveland did not sound like the metropolis that was New York or Chicago, but surely it was enough to have produced the couple's obvious wealth.

"Besides, Jasper is from one of the most respected families in this city, going back generations. Do you really think he would have invited the Masons into his home and to his wife's birthday party if he didn't give them his full backing and respect? Obviously they have money…" I trailed off, feeling that with this lot of women nothing more needed to be said. Money could buy a lot of things and in this case their money would buy them a foot in the door with the finest of Chicago. But with a group of people with pedigrees that could be traced back to New York and further back to the Old World, who your parents were was just as important as how you came into your wealth. And for almost everyone here, their wealth came from their parents superior lineages. Old money, very old.

"Fine," Irina sniffed, "But I think I speak for everyone when I say I cannot promise anything. She can come to tea but then the ball is in her court. She needs to woo us." Her gloved hands brought a crystal glass of champagne to her lips, symbolizing the effective end of the conversation. It was too bad so many of the other women seemed to be afraid to challenge Irina, because I personally thought her an awful taste maker for our little group.

I tried not to roll my eyes as I finally took my leave of the circle. While all the ladies were my friends, I often felt like I didn't really know any of them. Alice was really the tie that bound us all together. She was the peacekeeper and without her it was easy to feel the tension.

For a moment I thought I might search out my husband for a dance but immediately threw out the idea. Surely he was already too preoccupied with his drink and his boys. There was no way I would be able to coax him away for a moment, let alone dancing which he so clearly detested.

I needed to put more space between the society ladies and myself and sought out the refreshments. Alice and Jasper's soirées typically had a full sit down dinner served in many separate courses a la Russe but today they had opted to try something different.

A multiple course meal's worth of food was set out on two long covered tables. Service a la Française seemed to be making a comeback, and the current buffet spread style would likely pick up speed thanks to the Whitlocks. While a standard plated dinner was a nice reprieve from a party, the visual appeal was absolutely staggering.

Leave it to my best friend to curate a table setting that was a feast for the eyes as well as the belly. Alice and Jasper (mostly Alice) had certainly pulled out all the stops for this meal. Her formal floral centerpieces anchored a multitude of gleaming roasts-both beasts and birds-vegetables and aspics, crocks of steaming soups, platters of braised fish and boiled lobsters with claws pre-cracked by the kitchen maid, and a different sauce to go with every dish. The only thing missing was the dessert, with the exception of Alice's birthday cake, standing tall with 4 tiers and iced thickly in delicate white frosting, but I sensed it all might be brought out towards the end of the festivities.

It all looked so sumptuous but instead I went for the golden tin of caviar, sitting in a bowl of chipped ice. I grasped the small mother of pearl spoon and scooped out a dollop of the black, glistening delicacy and dropped it onto a triangle of toasted bread. There were other accouterments like chopped egg and crème fraîche to go along but being a purist, I popped it in my mouth and let the salty savory flavors get to work on my tongue.

It was hard to tear myself away from the table but I had a trunk load of new gowns at home to think about. Keeping up with all the latest fashions was tricky business with some many wonderful things to tempt at a party like this.

"Excuse me," A deep voice drew me away from my preoccupation with my stolen snack. I blotted the corner of my mouth quickly with the napkin I had thankfully picked up earlier before turning. I felt myself turn scarlet when I saw who was standing just behind me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interesting encounter between Bella and Mr. Mason leaves gossip on the minds of the society women.

"Oh Mr. Mason," I stammered out, not expecting to see him standing so close. He was so handsome it was almost off-putting. A small part of me began to understand the unspoken aggression that had been shown to his wife for finding such a man. It was of course hard to blame him for the choice when she was endowed with such unique beauty. In another world where I had not married Jacob, I might have vied for the affections of such a man. It did not hurt that he was a self-made businessman of hard work, a drive sorely missing from my own mate.

"Pardon me, what did you say," I started again, realizing with embarrassment that he had spoken while I was busy comparing him to my husband. Thankfully the rouge on my cheeks would disguise the flush I gave myself.

He smiled, looking nonplussed and slightly amused, "I just wanted to let you know that it looks like your hand fan fell and is tangled in the lace of your gown."

My cheeks grew hotter as I turned my head further and looked down to find that indeed my fan had fallen out of my reticle and was snared in the lace at the bottom edge of my dress. I only hoped that rescuing the fan would not rip the lace and ruin the gown, otherwise I don't know who will be more upset with me-myself, Bree, or Jacob.

"I would have picked it up myself but…" he trailed off, the obvious impropriety of it did not need to be spoken. The gossip hounds had enough to eat, I didn't need to give them a fresh kill to snap up and run away with.

"Of course, of course. I wouldn't dream," I quickly shook my head at the silliness of it all, my cheeks flaming now and I could feel it creeping down my neck and chest. How dreadfully embarrassing it was to be caught looking so disheveled and in front of such a handsome newcomer. My mother always taught me, first impressions are _everything._

I needed to get away from any eyes that might catch my embarrassment quickly and I needed to somehow get the attention of someone to help me. Preferably Alice or one of her maids.

"Excuse me Mr. Mason," I tried to smile before I made my leave. I was careful to pull the hem of my dress up, to prevent the fan from clattering on the ground, as I began to walk towards the door that would lead to a hallway I knew contained a powder room as well as one of the service entrances.

My steps were quick and I managed to avoid running into anyone who might notice the faux pas with my fan.

I took a moment to collect myself and settle my earlier embarrassment before venturing further down the hall and into the powder room. For some reason, having Mr. Mason point it out made it much worse than if one of the ladies had. Perhaps it was just because he was so handsome. No lady ever liked being caught in an embarrassing situation by such a handsome man.

I was lucky to quickly catch sight of the Hale's little Irish maid, Maggie. She was still new to the country, having come over with her brother earlier in the year. Now she was lucky to be serving in the Alice and Jasper's household. She was paid well enough considering her position as the lowest on the domestic rung, and Alice and Jasper were benevolent and caring employers. A young girl like Maggie could have ended up in a lot of terrible places when she started to look for work, especially as an Irish immigrant.

"Maggie," I called out to her softly as she passed by the door for the powder room I was hiding in. She stopped in her tracks, and averting her gaze to the ground out of respect.

"Yes ma'am? How may'a assist yeh?" She asked in her heavy accent.

"Maggie, it's me," I stepped out slightly so the candles that illuminated the outer hallway would show her my face. She relaxed slightly, but continued to hold a very professional posture.

"Hello Mrs. Black," she smiled now, knowing that she was free to be personable and herself.

"Maggie, I need your help," I informed her as I brought her into the power room and hit the switch for the gas lights. Once we were bathed in the yellow glow of the gas lamps, I turned my body until the back of my dress was facing her and she was able to see my predicament.

"Ach, Mrs. Black, what have ye done to this beautiful dress?" she clucked her tongue as she bent to examine the damage. "I donna understand how you've managed this."

I'm upset all over again at the thought of Mr. Mason pointing it out. It should not get to me so, I should not let it. But it would always be his first impression of me and that does not sit well at all. I hope to God he will forget it, though I know I will not.

"Well my Bree thought it clever to fasten my reticule to the waistband of the dress to keep my hands free. But it is a bit difficult to take things in and out of it. I must've missed when I put my fan away and it fell without my noticing. I only hope you'll be able to detangle it without ripping the lace," I tried to look behind me to supervise her work but the angle was far to harsh for my neck. I could feel the tugging on the lace that traveled all the way up the back of the bodice.

"There ye go," Maggie proclaimed jubilantly as she held out my fan. "Only one bitty piece of lace was snagged Mrs. Black. Hardly noticeable," her freckled face was shining with pride in her handiwork.

"Oh Maggie! You wonderful creature!" I patted her on the head with a grin of my own. I reached for the reticule on my waistband and fished for a silver coin I knew I'd stashed in my purse before we left. I kept my fan in my free hand, intent to hold it for the rest of the night to avoid any additional mishaps. I handed her the silver coin and she bowed deeply in thanks.

"Thank ye Mrs. Black, you are a fine woman," she remarked before scurrying off in search of what was likely her original intent in coming down the corridor.

I allowed myself another moment to relieve myself of my earlier embarrassment. I pulled the silk glove down my free arm enough so that I could press my forearm to my cheek. Nice and cool. Much better.

I arranged my glove back up my arm, opened my fan with a flourish and began back down the hall to the ballroom.

Everything was exactly as I left it, except now there were more than a few couples dancing together in the center of the room. I was reminded once more of my husband's inability to partake it something I considered one of my favorite parts of going to parties and balls.

I searched the crowds of party-goers for Jacob. He was quickly found in the furthest corner from the band and dancing. Of course.

My eyes narrowed slightly but I controlled my visible displeasure as I began to make my way across the grand room, smiling and greeting as I passed acquaintances. There really were a lot of society people at the party.

When I finally came upon my husband he was still surrounded by a few of his old law school friends. The good old boys as I thought of them. Every one of them was a trust fund son with varying degrees of effort to continue their father's good names.

That seemed to be the trouble with many men and women in our current circle. Everyone was far too content to stay within the comfort and ease that their parent's vast riches afforded them. I could not say that I was completely innocent but in my case there was little I could do.

My husband on the other hand was guilty of coasting off the good life his father had set up for him even when he has the means and the ability to do so much more with himself.

When we met formally he was just finishing up his final year of law school. Of course he would try to enter the profession just as the Bar Association made formal schooling mandatory for all who were to test to be certified.

Jacob was hard working then. How much had changed in only a few years. But now there was no drive to take over for his father, at least not until the poor man died and then he would be forced to act. I had my suspicions of course but did not dwell on them. He was too far gone to change now. The drink had ensnared him well.

"Mr. Cameron, Mr. McCarty, Mr. Clearwater," I greeted Jacob's current posse as they were his closest friends along with Jasper. The trio of men were husbands to the women in my so called gaggle of friends I was avoiding. "Jacob," I moved to my husband's side carefully, eyeing the nearly drained crystal glass of dark liquor he was nursing. How many was that already? My guess was that he was at least on his third. Jacob was an expert at putting his whiskey back.

"Mrs. Black," they all smiled and nodded their return greeting.

"Are the ladies all beside themselves over the Masons?" Emmett McCarthy asked with a chuckle as he took a sip of his own glass of amber. "I think I saw my poor Rose nearly faint at the sight of that woman."

The men exchanged suggestive glances that said that they too found Victoria Mason quite the sight to behold. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and sigh. The men were clouded by Victoria, and the ladies were clouded by the pair of them. The Masons were on par to drive the entire party quite mad.

"Oh you know us girls, we don't like having a new rival enter the ring without advance warning," I smiled sweetly, playing along with the docile and daft image they surely had of us society women.

It was not the conversation I really wanted to be having, but it helped take my mind off my earlier fan faux pas.

I turned to my husband, my bottom lip held between my teeth as I prepared to ask a question I already knew the answer to. I always knew the answer but I could not stop myself from asking.

"Do you want to dance darling?" I asked him, my brow raised hopefully as I released my lip. My brown eyes were glued to his face, watching him mull it over as he took another pull from his glass until it was empty. He savored the sip and closed one eye before shaking his head slightly.

"I'm not feeling up to it, sorry Is," he took my hand and pressed the smallest kiss to the back of it in apology. I smiled the smallest smile I could manage as I allowed myself to become disappointed. Surely I would find someone else to dance with this evening, but the point of it all was that I wanted to dance with my husband. I just do not understand why he cannot understand my desire.

I longed for his arms holding me, guiding me as we might float across the dance floor, surrounded by other couples and yet completely unaware of their presence. Just like it used to be when we were first married. Had three years, nearly four, already changed so much between us?

I wasn't sure whose fault it was. Maybe it was mine, maybe I was not a good enough wife to him. Perhaps I nagged too much, and told him that I cared too little. What if I was the cause of his dependency on the drink that he now seemed to love more than me? How could I ever get him back?

With another small smile and a whisper of a goodbye to my husband and his friends, I grabbed ahold of my skirts and turned to walk away. I needed Alice.

Of course, who would I run into once more but Mr. Mason?

"Pardon me," I tried to quickly get away, lest I bloom with an embarrassed flush again. Of course he flashed a dazzling smile that made my breath catch in my throat. I felt myself flush anyways.

"How goes it fellows?" he blended easily into the group as I was left. At least the men were much more receptive to newcomers. They would likely have no problem welcoming Mr. Mason into the fold and quickly got down to introductions.

"Have you seen Alice?" I asked Irina, grabbing her arm lightly to catch her attention away from the dancing figures at the center of the room. Alice and Jasper could not be counted amongst them.

"No," she shook her head, a tendril of her blonde hair falling loose from her bun. Her eyes began to twinkle knowingly and her lips turned up in a secret smile that I couldn't place. "But I saw you…"

My eyebrows shot up. I knew that look. Whatever Irina was thinking, could not be good.

"I really don't know what you're talking about…" I tried to smother the accusatory flames before they got out of control. Irina really was a force to be reckoned with.

"Oh please, I saw that little exchange between you and Mr. Mason.." she tutted her tongue and shook her head in a taunting way. "He was standing awfully close, and I didn't see you step away. Anyone who didn't know better might've thought you were _lovers." _She grinned salaciously, happy to believe that what she'd seen between Mason and I was inappropriate.

I felt my cheeks go scarlet again, but less with embarrassment and more with anger at her pitiful gossip mongering.

"Irina, what you saw was Mr. Mason pointing out that I'd dropped my fan on the ground. Nothing more. Whatever else you're thinking, is _wrong_. Understood? Thank you," I sniffed as I began to walk away. I'm sure I haven't completely quieted her belief, but it was better than letting it run amok.

After all, I had never met the either Mason before this very evening, how in the world was I meant to be Mr. Mason's lover? And to display it for everyone to see at one of the biggest events of the year? Surely Irina was losing it.

* * *

"Di'you have fun?" Jacob asked, his words slurring as his body jostled with every bump of the carriage.

"Yes, thank you darling," I nodded, looking out the window as I attempted to sit as far from him as possible within the tight confines of the cab. I was happy for the short drive back to our home. My husband smelled so terribly of the drink he imbibed himself with from the time we arrived to the party until the very moment we left.

At least I got to dance before we left the party. Some of my husband's friends asked for my hand, but I only danced with those whose wives I knew would approve. Emmett was a bear of a partner, but he made it fun. Seth Clearwater was a bit weak footed but he still managed to lead a lovely dance for me. I was lucky to have danced at all.

I also managed to get a moment alone with Alice, and recount my strange and embarrassing interaction with Edward Mason, along with the terrible gossip Irina was trying to start. Alice promised to help quiet whatever whispers she heard. I'm only afraid the whisper won't start until the days to come.

Once we were home, Jacob went straight to his study. He really was a creature of habit.

Bree helped me undress, and I was glad to be relieved of the heavy gown and its accompanying undergarments. My corset was so supportive all day long, but I still loved the feeling of having only my nightgown to contain me.

"Bree, please don't wait up for Mr. Black… see to the fires and then go to bed. I'll take my breakfast at half past nine," I instructed my lady's maid who would pass along the information to the other members of the domestic household on my behalf.

When I was finally alone in my bed, alone to ward off the cold, I allowed my to break down completely. I cried for myself, for my husband, for my lack of love, and for every desire of my heart that has not been fulfilled.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A difficult conversation arises for Bella.

The weeks following Alice's party were a whirlwind. More parties, and gatherings, and women's club meetings. And then Christmas festivities came upon us just as hard as the Chicago winter. Everywhere you went fireplaces were roaring with orange flames and crackling logs, and it still wasn't enough to ward off the constant chill that crept through thick layers of clothing.

New Year's Eve saw another grand, all-out, fancy-dress bash hosted by the Whitlocks. Anyone who was anyone was there outfitted to the nines in fanciful costumes. Jacob and I went as Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, complete with a powdered wig that dropped dust with every step I took. Alice blew everyone away by wearing a fantastic gown that was lit from within by tiny little light bulbs. Leave it to Alice to incorporate the latest technology into her outfit.

Even the Masons were there, with Victoria dressed as a hornet in black and white stripes with a stinger made of dyed ostrich feathers, and Edward donning a pirate captain's garb, looking incredibly handsome while doing so. I found it only slightly odd that while most couples attempted to coordinate their costumes, the Masons went in completely opposite directions.

Everyone was in the spirit of a brand new year, and it showed. I was happy to find that it was all enough to have kept Irina's gossip at bay, with plenty of other distractions to hold her attention.

We drank French champagne all night, ate the finest caviar, and danced quadrilles until we could hardly stand. I even had the opportunity to dance with Edward Mason. He was an absolutely divine dancer, as was his wife.

But the fun and carefree moments are almost gone. The winter is at its worst. The long, cold nights and short frigid days bring out the strangest attributes in people. And I could not get Mr. Mason off my mind.

* * *

"When are you going to host the tea you promised to invite Victoria to?" Alice asked me as we sat side by side in her parlor, the fireplace roaring in front of us.

I took a sip of hot coffee, with a dash of cream and sugar just as I liked before answering her query. It warmed me nicely on the way down.

"I'm not sure…Do you think anyone will be willing to come this far in this cold?" I posed the question but knew the answer. The ladies in our circle would go clean across the city in a blizzard for a chance to be together and exchange gossip, especially after spending so much time locked in heated, gilded cages. So coming from north of the river, where most of them live, down to Hyde Park would be no trouble at all for most of them.

"Irina and Rose have been hounding me to get on your case. They all still want to grill Victoria, since they did not get a chance to at my New Year's Eve gala. Though I highly doubt they will get much out of that woman," Alice shrugged her shoulders and picked up a piece of her cook's famous fig cake.

In that case, it was decided for me. It was just a shame we wouldn't be able to use the conservatory unless, by some miracle, spring came early.

"I better get out the stationery when I get home and sent off some invitations," I smiled and shook my head. "But when there aren't enough fireplaces to go around in my sitting room, I will tell the ladies that you're the one to blame, just remember th-."

"Mommy!" we were interrupted by Alice and Jasper's two-year-old daughter Lucy, toddling into the room, followed closely by her nanny, Emily.

"Lucy! How was your nap my little dear?" Alice smiled and brought her daughter up onto her lap and started to feed her a piece of cake while the little girl began to relate her day in her baby vocabulary.

Watching Alice interact with her child always made me smile, but it also hurt my heart.

When I married Jacob, I was sure we would start a family right away. But even when he was still a loving husband, he was never a very passionate man. Our wedding night was probably the most involved he has ever been with me. After that, things went completely downhill.

Perhaps I was never good enough from the start. Perhaps, Jacob and I would have been better off as friends, and marrying different people. Maybe then my husband wouldn't be so miserable, and I wouldn't be so alone now.

Jacob never came to my bed anymore. We have had separate bedrooms from the very beginning, but he adheres to it strictly. I always sleep alone in a bed that is too big for just me, and he sleeps in his dressing room, no doubt clutching his decanter of whiskey, the only company and comfort he's taken for years.

It's no wonder I will never have a child with a husband who won't touch me. I'm lucky to receive the occasional kiss on the back of my hand or the side of my head. And nothing more.

Before I was married, my mother warned me that my husband would likely have quite the carnal appetite for the things that married couples did. I was prepared to welcome my husband into my bed any time that he wanted. I was even willing to be outpaced and let him into my bed even when I did not want to. But mother was wrong, at least about my Jacob.

"Miss Young, please take Lucy back to the nursery," Alice broke me out of my depressing thoughts with the order to the nanny. Visits with her daughter during the day were short but full of love.

"Yes, Mrs. Whitlock. Come along Lucy, I've got a new game we can play," she coaxed the little girl from her mother and took her chubby little hand to lead her out of the room. She stopped at the door to wave goodbye to her mother and myself. I knew well enough to smile and wave back. Lucy was a sensitive child, at least according to Alice.

Alice continued to smile long after Lucy left the room. Motherhood suited her well. I'm certain that she cannot wait for the day that Lucy will be old enough to join in on all the parties and balls.

"What's wrong darling?" Alice reached over to pat me lightly on the knee. She always knew when I was feeling down, even if I hadn't told her anything.

I thought about keeping it to myself, after all, my bad mood was partially to do with her child. But Alice would press me, and I knew she would understand what I was going through. I was free to speak my mind with her, and I was blessed to have a bosom friend in her.

"Just the usual...Lucy is so cute, it makes me so sad," my brows furrowed together as I stared into the dregs at the bottom of my cup of coffee. "Jacob is- Well, you know how Jacob is. I need something to change Alice," I heard my voice break and cursed myself for getting so close to the edge. I cried over this far too often.

"Oh Bella," my best friend put her arm around me. She was such a great comfort, she really was. I think it is the mother in her, though my own is a very cold woman. "I'm certain things will get better. Have you tried talking to him? Have you two ever really sat down and talked about a family?" she asked softly as she rubbed my back.

I buried my face in her shoulder. Alice was smaller than me, but she didn't mind.

"I cannot for the life of me remember… Maybe when we first married? But nothing happened… And now, things are definitely not happening anymore at all. We can't have a baby if he does not want to even try," I allowed the tears to escape my eyes, soiling the shoulder of her wool dress.

"Maybe you should try talking to him again. Really talk to him," she suggested.

"I can't talk to him once he's been drinking. And you know he never puts the glass down long enough to sober up. And I can't force him… I'm never going to have a baby, Alice. I'm going to end up the childless aunt to all of your children," I couldn't help but cry harder at the thought of living my life without the thing I wanted most.

"There, there, dear," Alice tried her best to comfort me, but I was beyond comforting. The reality of my situation was becoming clearer and clearer to me every single day, and that was not easy to come to terms with. "Have you thought about," she began but stopped. "No, never mind," I felt her shake her head as if to banish the thought.

That piqued my curiosity, and I lifted myself out of her embrace.

"Have I thought about what?" I asked, brow raised as I wiped a tear from my cheek. A part of me thought I might know what Alice was referring to, but I would not be the one to say it aloud.

"Well, it's crazy of course, and out of the question. But…Have you thought of asking Jacob for a divorce?" she asked timidly, her voice practically a whisper at the last word.

I felt my jaw practically fall to the ground at her suggestion, and I sat up straighter so I could look at her better, so I could know if she was actually serious or not.

"Alice! I cannot even believe you would suggest such a thing. It's, it's…completely out of the question!" I was practically shouting, and I didn't mean to. I shouldn't be mad; after all, she was the first to say her suggestion was out of the question. But I wasn't mad at her, I was mad at myself because I had already thought about divorcing Jacob.

It was just that, in our social circle, divorce was the biggest taboo of them all.

Getting beat by your husband? Stay married. Husband spending more time at the Everleigh Club with prostitutes than at his own home? Stay married. Husband drinks and gambles away your fortune? Stay married.

Divorce was not an option. I wanted it to be an option. But it simply wasn't. Not if I did not want the wrath of my parents and God brought down on me, and my name to be dragged through the mud in every newspaper in town. And not if I didn't want to lose every penny I had to my name.

Besides the ugly parts, getting a divorce was impractical, and time-consuming and would require my husband's full cooperation. It would also require moving to Indiana for months, or at the very least, taking a long trip down to Mexico for a faster divorce.

Nevertheless, it was all out of the question.

Until death do we part.

"I'm sorry for suggesting it...But in that case, you need to talk to your husband and tell him how you feel. It's the only way you'll get anywhere, Bella. Talk to him tonight," Alice used her soft, comforting voice to bring me down from my earlier outburst.

"And what if it does not work? What if he will not listen?" I asked again, feeling like I was on repeat. I should not sound so cruel to my friend when she was only trying to help, but I really was at a breaking point. This all was going to decide the rest of my life and what happiness I might find in it.

"Then you will have your answer, Bella. And then, you will need to figure out how to deal with it. You will always be welcome to spend time with Lucy if it is not too painful for you. But, I am certain you will find a way to make your own happiness without a child," she said with absolute finality on the subject as she picked up the coffee pot and filled up both of our cups.

"Now, cheer up, and let's start planning that tea. We are both going to need all of our wits to get through it."

* * *

After another hour my second-in-command helping me plan the tea, my mind was miles away from Jacob. She was good at getting me wrapped up into something else for long enough that my anxiety would just melt away.

"Take care, darling, I'll call on you tomorrow, alright?" Alice kissed both of my cheeks as we hugged tightly.

"If I have them send you up to my bedroom and not to the parlor, no hard feelings because you'll already know how it all went," I chuckled darkly, humorlessly, as I continued to hold onto her. As soon as I left her embrace I would be all on my own.

"If it ends up being that bad, I will happily go up and comfort you," she patted my back lightly before practicing prising me out of her arms.

Mr. Randall appeared tactfully with my fur and green, wool coat and helped me put it on. Once every button was fastened, I fashioned my bonnet atop my head and pulled on leather gloves to protect my hands. I took my sweet time doing it all too, wanting to prolong the inevitable for as long as humanly possible. I did not want to go home.

"Randall, is my carriage already ready?" I asked the man as I fiddled with the fur lapel of my coat.

"Yes, ma'am, it is already waiting for you," he answered without skipping a beat. Damn him.

"Well, I guess I'll be off then… Please do call tomorrow, Alice, I really will need it, no matter how things go this evening," I grabbed Alice's hand and squeezed it lightly to give myself a last dose of her positive energy.

"I will, don't fret about it, Bella," she smiled and all but pushed me out the front door into the cold.

I stepped quickly down the stairs and out of the front gate to the driveway where my chauffeur stood waiting to open the carriage door for me.

The ride home was short, too short. We all but went around the block our homes are so close. I wished I could have walked slower into the house, but the biting cold kept me moving.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Black," Bree greeted me sweetly after I was let in by our butler. I only nodded my acknowledgment. It was better for her to know I was in a mood rather than to continue to play along with pleasantries.

"Where is Mr. Black?" I asked her as I began the reverse process of removing all of my cold-weather outerwear. She took each piece from me without protest.

"He's in his study, ma'am," she nodded her head down the marble-lined hallway.

"Thank you, Bree. Please have cook send dinner to my bedroom in about an hour," I told her as I began the harrowing trek down the corridor. The gas lights had been turned down for the evening, and fixtures cast interesting shadows on the floor and dark wainscoting that lined the walls. The portraits and paintings that hung were distorted by the low light and only served to increase my anxiety for what I was walking in to.

Jacob's study was at the back of the house. The two story room was filled with built-in bookshelves, and those shelves were in turn, filled with books. There were some of his law school tomes, and old books given to him as wedding presents, and the rest were loaded off on him by his father who was an avid book collector who had run out of space in his own home. I hardly ever saw him pick up a book anymore.

The thing I liked about the study most were the two huge, leaded glass windows that framed everything and let it lots of natural light. Most days, Jacob had the curtains drawn tightly, with the only light coming from a large oil lamp he kept on his writing desk.

I knocked lightly on the door before letting myself in.

It was time to seal my fate, once and for all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight occurs.

"You didn't wait for me to say come in." Jacob scolded without even looking up from his desk. He was hunched over one of his journals. It seemed like overnight he had taken to scribbling away in leather-bound notebooks. He told me he was going to become a writer but refused to share anything.

I don't think he is telling the truth.

"I'm sorry darling," I apologize, closing the study door behind me with a quiet thud and click of the latch. I wanted to shield the servants from whatever was about to happen, at least as much as I could. I cannot promise I will not raise my voice, and I know Jacob has no qualms with yelling either.

I take a few steps into the room, looking around at the books and other odds and ends decorating the space, stalling of course. Jacob still has not looked up to acknowledge my presence apart from his earlier scolding of my lack of manners.

"Well?" I see him lift his head infinitesimally in my direction, and his brown brows raise themselves sharply over his eyes. A quick glance to the left of his writing hand tells me everything I need to know. I see the cut, crystal tumbler of whiskey, along with a half-full decanter of amber liquid on the console table to his right. It's far enough away to avoid accidents but close enough for extra easy access. I wonder if the decanter was full when he started and hope it was not.

But I know better already.

"I was hoping that perhaps we could talk?" I offered nonchalantly as I moved closer to Jacob. The scent of whiskey perfumes the area. The scent is heady, and I could not tell if it came directly from him, or if the powerful odor of the amber alcohol had simply permeated the entire room.

"About what exactly?" he questions further, finally setting down his fountain pen and closing the leather journal that he had been writing in only a moment ago. I had his full attention now and I would try not to waste it.

I took a deep breath as I sat myself down in the armchair that sat facing his writing desk. I watched his brows lift further. Clearly, I had piqued his curiosity, which was both a good and a bad thing. It meant he would listen to me, but I knew he was not going to like what he was about to hear.

I always wondered if there something _different_ about my husband. He was much the same as any other man I had ever met, but there was just something slightly _off _about him...something hard to explain..

My first indication that there was something not quite right came to me before we were married.

Like most of our friends before us, Jacob and I were introduced to each other at a party. I was just shy of nineteen and enjoying the life of a socialite along with my friends. I had suitors aplenty buzzing around me even then, the last of my generation to stay single.

A lovely young man named Michael Newton was my favored beau at the time. He was sweet, and baby-faced, and he seemed to be good husband material for me.

But when I met Jacob at that party, there was just something that drew me to him. Before his whiskey-downing days, he had been somewhat of an intellectual. Almost done with law school, I found him having a deep conversation with someone I would later learn was his best friend, Jared Cameron. His passion for whatever long-forgotten subject he debated about had attracted me instantly, and not soon after I gave poor Michael the slip.

Jacob seemed hesitant at first to court me, citing his desire to focus on continuing his law studies and beginning his work at the firm his father had helped him get hired at. But he was the most darling friend ever, and I was okay with that. The whole time, I secretly hoped he would eventually want more.

When his friend Jared became engaged to a lovely young woman named Angela, it seemed to change his tune and we came out shortly after as an official couple.

Of course, he still took things quite slowly. Most of my friends and even my mother admonished me over the amount of time it took for Jacob to finally propose to me. Jared and Angela were married before he even popped the question.

Something inside me still wonders if my relationship with Jacob was not influenced in some way by Jared's relationship with Angela.

More than once I have walked in on serious and sometimes angry conversations between the two men since we have been married. Every time it happens it leaves me with the strangest sense of dread. I still can't quite put my finger on what it is exactly that leaves me feeling that way, but perhaps it's the pleading look that always seems to be on Jacob's face when the pair are fighting. It's far too intimate for my liking.

"Well...I wanted to talk to you about, or rather ask you, when do you think we might start trying to have a family?" I asked him timidly. I was afraid to meet his intense whiskey stare, and instead trained my eyes on the smooth, metal grommets that affixed the leather pad to his desk. It seemed such a silly question to ask after nearly four years of marriage, but clearly, with four years and zero children, it needed to be asked.

I chanced a glance at him. Big mistake.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, an almost accusatory look suddenly painting his features. His face said, 'whatever your problem is, it's your fault.'

"If you don't have a child, that's not my problem _Isabella_," he all but spat the words at me.

I tried my absolute best to keep my cool and composure as I met his hostile expression with one of my own.

"You're not being fair _Jacob,_" I used the same condescending tone that he had when saying my name. My fingers hardened into talons on the armrests of my chair, the velvet upholstering dipping beneath the pressure I was exerting while I attempted to keep myself in check. How dare he say our childless marriage was my fault!

I closed my eyes for a moment while I took another deep breath to help steel myself from all the unpleasantness I was sure to erupt.

"You're not being fair. _At all_," I repeated myself as I looked him dead in his eyes. I could see fire brewing behind his brown irises, and I hoped he could see the same in mine. "I cannot have a baby by myself, Jacob. I know you probably wish I could, but I cannot. I need you. You know that!"

I feel my anger continuing to bubble and boil inside me at his indignant attitude. If he keeps it up, I don't know if I will be able to contain myself. It feels like all the years I have simply bitten my tongue and shrugged off the neglect I have felt in our marriage is finally coming to a place where something big has to happen in order to settle it all.

All the doubts and questions about him and his proclivities are starting to surface in my mind. What if my husband is really _not _like other men?

Jacob continued his hard stare, but he was no longer looking at me. His gaze stared into the distance behind me, likely training on the door that would allow him to escape.

"I don't care what you need Isabella. All these years, it has always been about you, and what you need. But what about me?" he asked, his tone no longer aggressive, it was suddenly sad. I felt my stomach drop; I've never heard Jacob talk in such a manner.

My mouth went dry. He could not possibly mean what I thought he did. He was a married Christian man. I did not want to be right about what I thought.

"Jacob...please," I softened my tone considerably as I vacated my chair in order to be by his side. Through thick and thin, I still saw Jacob as my own best friend, since he had been, once upon a time. "You can talk to me," I told him, coming to kneel beside his chair, putting my hand on his arm to show my support.

I wished so much that he could air his demons and come back into the light with me. I want to help him do that in any way I that I can. Perhaps, if he can face what has bothered him for so many years, he will step away from the whiskey he has grown so dependent on and finally go back to being a productive member of society.

But Jacob shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning away from my touch on his arm. It broke my heart to see him so troubled and beyond my comfort.

"I can't, I can't Bella," he said, his voice trembled slightly as he used my nickname for the first time in forever.

"Jacob, tell me what has been bothering you for so many years," I implored him, standing to take his head in my hands. "I only want to help you, I love you," my fingers tried to release the tension he was holding in his face.

But he was having none of it. He pushed me away with enough force to knock me off my feet. I landed on my bottom, my back hitting the side table hard enough to cause the items sitting on top to wobbly haphazardly.

Ouch.

My husband did not even move to help me. His hands were too busy covering his face. I hope it is out of shame for what he has done, now and over the last four years of our marriage.

"I'm sorry Bella," he finally said as I began the slow process of extracting myself from the carpeted floor, not an easy task considering I've tangled my feet in the skirt of my day dress. His hands come back down to the desktop, and as I stand, I notice a letter sitting beside his closed journal.

The handwriting is relatively small and loopy, but I can make out a few words and phrases that jump out at me: 'it's over,' 'pregnant,' 'I'm sorry.' I hardly had to look further to see that it was signed J. Cameron.

I felt bile rise in my throat and have to tear my eyes away from the offending piece of paper. My shoulder throbs badly where it hit the sideboard, but my heart hurts more. I must take a step away from him because I feel as though I am no longer in control of myself.

"How could you?" my voice is hardly a whisper as I back myself up to one of the bookcases that line the walls. The glass door shudders softly as my sore shoulder butts against it. I cannot get far enough away from him, but I am frozen in my tracks.

He looks up at me, confusion on his features until his eyes follow my line of sight back to the letter, still sitting innocuously next to his now empty glass. His hands become a blur of activity as he is quick to pick up the letter and shove it unceremoniously into the drawer of his desk. Still, he has said nothing.

"I asked...how could you?" I shout, my anger now growing. I am livid at him for lying to me in every facet of our lives together, and angry at myself for not seeing it sooner.

Jacob's face says it all. Nothing needs to be explicitly said for him to know that I now know what has been going on behind my back the entire time we have been together. He looks like he wants to deny it, to talk me away from the edge I am currently planted on. But it would be futile.

My husband is _that way_, and has been acting on it behind my back.

"How could you?" I shout again, this time racing forward to slam the palms of my hands into his chest. I hardly move him with the effort, but it does flare his temper sharply.

As I suspect, he does not work to confirm or deny any of what I now know about him. Instead he stands, the chair falling with a clatter from the force of it. His arm comes out, pointing to the door.

"Get out. Right. Now," he instructs, his voice hard, his tone like an acid growl as it grates against my ears.

"No," I shake my head stubbornly, my hands shaking at my sides as I continue to stare at him. I wish he would just admit it all. Then I can at least have some closure.

"GET OUT!" he shouts, his voice so loud I fear the glass bookshelf doors may crack from the strain of it. I almost have to cover my ears from the shock of it.

It scares me enough to get my feet moving towards the door. I turn my back, intent now to get away from him, his treachery, and wrongs he has caused me.

As my hand begins to turn the knob, a sudden explosion stops me in my tracks as crystal shards rain down on my head and the strong odor of alcohol engulfs me. He's thrown his decanter, the sacrifice of his prized whiskey a show of just how upset he is.

I do not linger a moment more and quickly make my way out of the room, leaving him to stew with what he has done to me and to us.

Bree is waiting at the top of the stairs once I make my way to the second floor. I'm still coated in crystal shards, dust, and alcohol. I know I look like an absolute mess.

"Let's get you cleaned up Mrs. Black," she says softly as she opens the door to the bathroom and begins to run the tub. Thank God for modern conveniences. My grandparent's home still requires a maid to fetch hot water from the kitchen, while my bath has its own supply piped right in.

As the water runs and fills the bathtub, Bree helps me out of my dress and other layers of clothing until I'm down to my corset and chemise. When the tub is full, Bree begins the process of letting my corset out, and soon I am free of the alcohol-soaked article. I strip off my chemise and stand naked for a moment and instantly regret it.

A chill runs down my spine as I catch sight of my now bruised shoulder and upper back in the large mirror about the dual sinks.

I cannot help what happens next. My eyes blur and burn as they well with tears as I climb into the tub, the hot water doing nothing to persuade away the cold dread that has settled into every nook and cranny of my body.

Everything has gone wrong.

I started out trying to have a simple conversation with my husband about our lack of a family, and ended up learning of his unspeakable betrayal.

The tears fell faster until I was sobbing into my washcloth while Bree did her best to both comfort and clean me at the same time.

How could I ever come away from this treachery?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are learned and tea is shared.

“You need to perk up, Bella,” Alice advises me softly as we lounge in my upstairs sitting area while waiting for the drawing room to be transformed into an intimate, and cozy tea room. 

I was slouching on my pink velvet sofa, my hair almost touching the raised, wood decorations on the backrest. Bree would be upset with me if I allowed her carefully crafted updo to become disheveled and messy. But I feel as though I do not have the energy to care about such trivial things. 

It has been nearly a week since my conversation with Jacob; one week since I have been resigned to my fate of being forever unhappily married with no prospect of ever bringing a child into the world. My husband was in love with another, and unfortunately for me, the one he loves with is not a woman. Perhaps, I could have dealt with an unfaithful husband, as long as he still occasionally came back to me. But my husband suffers an affliction that cannot be cured by a loving and willing wife. He is broken, and now, so am I. 

Alice doesn’t know much about the fine details of the conversation with Jacob, only that it happened, and did not go well. I can’t bear to include her in my husband’s perversions. And the fewer people who know, the better.

“I can’t, Alice,” I complain, twisting my fingers into the knit blanket that sat on my lap, a gift from my grandmother for my last birthday. It is beautifully patterned and made of fine, exceptionally soft, warm wool. I start pulling at the stitches, flicking fibers of torn away wool onto the carpeted floor. Sorry Bree. 

It now seems as if I cannot help my destructive tendencies. My head has been anguished since the conversation, and it’s all I can do to preserve my sanity. 

How on earth am I expected to host a tea for my closest friends and Mrs. Mason, and pretend that everything is completely fine? How am I going to keep my newly-discovered dark secret away from the gossip hounds?

I don’t want to even think about the repercussions if a single soul besides Jacob and I found out about the _ odd way _ about him. We would be outcasts, both from our friends and our families. It would be even worse than divorce. 

And that is what has made me so miserable. Getting over the fact that my husband doesn't love me, at least not in the way a husband is supposed to love his wife, is hard. Difficult, but certainly doable. 

However, the fact that there is no pathway out of the relationship without bringing incredible shame, embarrassment, and pariah status to the both of us is what is keeping my heart in a painful vice grip. 

No child, no love, no life. How can I go on?

I looked at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. It was nearly half-past two. The ladies will start to filter in soon. It was time to suck it up, and put on a happy face, lest I give the gossip hounds something to talk about. 

Irina was my biggest worry, considering her mouth never stopped moving. If she was able to collect intel on the new arrivals to our social circle before even being introduced to them, then how was I to keep my failed marriage out of her hands?

I will have to put on my very best act today, or else I don’t stand a chance. 

“I’m going to help you, don’t worry, dear,” Alice said, reaching her hand out to pat my arm gently. Such a valued friend she is. I wish more than anything that I could reveal my secret to her, at the very least to unburden myself from the weight of it. But I cannot. 

“Thank you, Alice,” I try my absolute best to smile at her. The corners of my mouth lift only slightly, but I’m certain it is an improvement on the frown I’ve been wearing for days on end. It feels as if I need to retrain my face, and fast, before my company arrives.

“We’ll try to keep it as short as possible. As soon as they all get here, we will go straight into the drawing room and start the tea and coffee. The sandwiches and cakes will be served together, and then light conversation until I remind everyone that it’s time to get back home to our husbands and children,” she explains her game plan in a matter of fact tone. It’s no wonder most of the ladies consider her the spiritual leader of our social group.

She really ought to have hosted instead of me, but it was too late to switch the venue and hostess without arousing suspicion. Though, I daresay, with my current mood, I will be lucky to get through the afternoon with no one realizing how off I am. 

Focus, Bella, focus. 

The clock chimed the half-hour and I forced myself to stand and face the large mirror that sat beside the door out to the hall. 

My tea gown was looking a bit disheveled from my slouching. It was a golden yellow, brocaded wool affair that was quite warm and cozy. Quite plain, and not as form-fitting as I might have worn, but certainly glamorous enough to host tea. No one would be able to say the yellow color was glum. 

I arranged the skirt pleats so they hung a bit nicer, before fixing the yellow ribbon at the neck. Now all I needed was a smile, and I would look perfectly cheerful. 

Getting closer to the mirror, I noticed how pale and dull my face looked. A quick pinch to both of my cheeks remedied that rather quickly.

I turned back to Alice and did my best impression of a smile, “How do I look?”

Alice vacated her seat and came toward me to get a better look. She shook her head and clucked her tongue, mostly playfully, but I sensed a serious air about it.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Bella,” she chided and began nitpicking at the skirt of my gown. She moved in a small circle around me, really giving me the once-over. Her hands continued to smooth out my ensemble, removing the kinks and wrinkles caused by the pity slumping I had been doing moments ago. 

On the contrary, Alice looked absolutely beautiful in her visiting dress. The bodice and skirt were a simple lined blue silk, accented by a pink, faux shirtwaist, and delicate lace ruffles. Not a ribbon or hair was out of place on her. Of course. 

There was no more time to dwell on the fact that my best friend was utterly perfect in every facet of her life because the doorbell began to ring downstairs. It could mean only one thing: the ladies were beginning to trickle in, and the most difficult afternoon of my life was about to commence. 

*****

As Bree handed me a cup and saucer, my hand began to shake slightly from my nerves. The delicate, bone china clinked softly before I remedied my trembling by setting the cup of black tea on the coffee table before me. I could only hope no one was paying attention.

Thankfully, Alice had taken charge of the entertainment and was currently keeping everyone’s attention with a story from a meeting she had been invited to. There was to be another World’s Fair, this one to occur in Brussels in less than two years’ time, and Alice had been asked to share ideas for their Women’s Building. It was a cause to make every woman in our circle drunk with envy for such an honor.

Strangely, there seemed to be an air of anticipation in the room, judging by the looks that appeared to be going back and forth between the participants of my tea. I noticed this once I started paying attention.

That was when it hit me. There was someone missing … Mrs. Mason.

I’m certain that at any other time, I would have immediately identified her absence. But now, being completely preoccupied over the fact that my life was in ruins, I had let it go beyond my notice. 

Now that I have tuned into the whispers filtering about the room, it is clear it was going to be the only thing these ladies could think about. At least it was a relief for me. With their attention drawn to the mysterious truancy of Victoria Mason, I am somewhat free to continue my own, personal, pity party.

The moment I allowed my mind to delve back into my despair, I knew I had made a grave mistake. 

I cannot stop picturing my husband and his treachery. The idea that he could be passionate with another man in such an unnatural way still broke my heart into pieces. Why had he been so selfish? He had utterly deluded me into marrying him. I thought he loved and cared about me, but he was only afraid of being found out for what he was. I can never forgive him for getting me stuck in this situation.

My eyes began to water instantly with unshod tears, and I quickly stood and turned from the group, who thankfully, were still occupied with Alice’s story and Mason gossip. 

“Pardon me, I will be right back,” I said to no one in particular before exiting the drawing room. 

I went across the hall to the reception room and closed off the door that led back out. I just needed a moment to regain my composure before I could go back to my company. 

The blue glazed tile that decorated the fireplace mantle felt so cool against my cheek as I pressed my body up against the wall. It was freezing outside, but my current sensitivity made my body alight with the fires of anger and despair. 

I closed my eyes and tried to breath; tried to block out the horrible pictures of Jacob doing God-knows-what. 

“Jesus Christ, Edward, leave it alone already!” my ears pricked at the voices coming up the driveway, toward the front door. 

Unable to help myself, I pulled away from the fireplace and tiptoed to the window that looked out towards the front of the house. I was only slightly surprised to find the Masons making their way to my front door. I stood, watching, stealthily hidden by the dark velvet curtains that lined the windows. 

When their footsteps ceased, I expected the bell to ring, and for my butler to get the door. But it did not. Instead, the extreme proximity of the reception room to the front door meant I could hear just about every word of their apparent argument. 

“Do not speak in that manner to me, _ Victoria _ ,” I heard Mr. Mason use the same vitriol that his wife had in saying his name. “And do not tell me to leave it alone. I _ saw _ you…” he shot back, and I saw her jerk away from him. 

Their faces were blocked from my view, but their body language was enough to see that this was something intensely unpleasant for them. I should have stopped my spying and gone back to the drawing room to await Victoria’s arrival, after all, that would have been the polite thing to do. But I was rooted in my spot. 

“As I said before, you were mistaken, _ dear _,” the sneer was evident in her voice.

“I was not mistaken, and if you think you can pull the wool over my eyes, it is you who are mistaken,” he spat back as I saw his hand come up to ring the bell. 

“Is that why you decided to escort me? So you can keep an eye on me? You’ll need a lot more than that, _ dear _,” she retorted one final time.

The sound of the bell chimed through the vestibule and hallway. My butler, Mr. Peters, appeared quickly from one of the service corridors, but for some reason I decided to head him off.

“Thank you, Mr. Peters,” I smiled cheerfully at him and waved him back towards the wainscot-covered door that blended into the hallway. His eyebrows raised in question, but he did as instructed.

The Mason’s disagreement was still somewhat audible to me, but now it was muffled by the marble that lined the vestibule and the thick, stained glass, that decorated the entryway windows. 

Now I walked purposefully to the door, hoping for one of them to see me coming through the window so that they might tactfully end their conversation before I opened the door. 

It would appear they finally caught wind that they were no longer alone because they were silent as I opened the door with another smile. This time, it did not feel fake and forced. Something about what I had just been privy to had given me an odd sense of exuberance. It felt wrong to feel that way, but I could not stop it. 

Nor did I want to. 

Perhaps it was because I found Mr. Mason, _ Edward _, so attractive, or perhaps it was because I found that his wife had such a disagreeable way about her.

“Welcome Mr. Mason, Mrs. Mason,” I greeted the couple warmly before stepping aside to allow them both into the vestibule. A part of me regretted answering the door myself as the intense cold funneled into the house and invaded my dress. I could feel goosebumps sprouting on practically every part of my body.

“Can I take your mantle Mrs. Mason?” I offered as the red-headed woman began to remove her elaborate, purple wool, and fur-lined cape. It was quite heavy when she all but dropped it into my arms; yet another reason to have allowed Mr. Peters to handle the arrival. 

“Are you staying, Mr. Mason? I’m afraid you’ll find an event like this dreadfully boring for a man such as yourself,” I chuckled lightly as I moved to press a little button disguised in the woodwork near the door to call Mr. Peters back to assist me. 

It was almost as if the man, having anticipated my stupidity, had been waiting just behind the door. He appeared at once and removed the coat from my arms.

“I am actually meeting with your husband, Mrs. Black, I sent a telegraph yesterday asking him to consult on some legal papers I have for my business,” he explained as he shed his coat and handed it off to Mr. Peters, who quietly retreated to a small cloakroom down the hall.

“Of course,” I nodded, acting as though my husband and I had exchanged a single word in weeks and that I was well aware of what was going on in my own home. It was certainly news to me that my husband was once again working. “Mr. Peters, please show Mr. Mason to the study; Mr. Black is waiting for him,” I instructed before turning back to Victoria who had been eerily quiet since entering my home.

“Sir,” I heard my butler address Mr. Mason before leading him away.

“It’s so lovely of you to join us, Mrs. Mason,” I tried to make small talk as I began to walk back to the drawing room. 

“Victoria,” she corrected almost lazily as she smoothed her hands down the purple and black dress she wore. 

“Of course, I should have asked. Most of the ladies prefer to be called by their given name when amongst friends. I should have known you would be the same,” I said, trying to remedy the tightness of our interaction.

I cleared my throat and managed to catch Alice’s eye, who quickly interrupted whatever ill words were being spoken. 

“Look who’s joined us,” I caught everyone’s attention further. I began to make the formal introductions as were required when a newcomer was brought into the inner circle, ensuring that only her first name was used as to her preference. This would be the very first time she would be up close and personal with the society ladies outside of the few balls the Masons had been invited to since arriving in town.

Once everyone was seated with a cup of hot tea in hand, I let myself relax and slightly enjoy. I could feel my mood had shifted for the better upon bearing witness to the early disagreement between the Masons. It was bitterly callous of me to find joy in the suffering of others, but perhaps that was who I now was … I bitter, twisted woman who was happy to know I was not the only unhappily married person in this town.

Now that Victoria could no longer be the object of fixation, it appeared Irina had steered the conversation elsewhere; to a well-known dry goods proprietor named Rupert, who had lost all his money in some fake, railroad company. His wife had left him immediately for a much younger man while he was left to pick up the pieces alone. 

Love was apparently not winning in Chicago. 

Victoria seemed to love the gossip and participated eagerly. For the first time, I saw her porcelain skin stretched into a smile of pure joy. Yet, her eyes held a sense of something twisted that I cannot put my finger on.

“He told me not to say anything, but my husband was looking to buy up the building and inventory. The shop he bought when we moved here is horribly small and outdated,” she smiled almost gleefully at the misfortune of another for her gain.

“Rupert’s loss is your gain,” Irina chimed in, exchanging grins with Victoria. If they became chums, I’m certain it will be a cause of concern for the entire city.

“That is exactly what I told my husband. He was wary of it at first, what with the situation. But it’s not his fault Rupert was an utter idiot with his money. Why shouldn’t we profit from that?” she shrugged and took a sip of tea like it was nothing.

The other women began to chime in their agreements, and the talk continued.

Watching and listening to them made me feel sick to my stomach. I had done just that. Cheered at the hurt of another. I could not allow myself to ever have such feelings again. I was certainly raised better than that. 

I tried to tune out the rest of the conversation and think more positive thoughts. This group, sparing Alice, was a pretty lousy group of women. They called themselves the best of the city, but they were truly no better than the very worst of this town. I could not completely lump Mrs. Mason in with my friends, after all, as far as I knew, she had not been born into money. A poor upbringing was likely at fault for her current odd temperament. 

Something in the conversation piqued my interest again, and for some reason, it made my stomach sink once more.

“Do you have any children, Victoria?” Jessica Newton finally made her way into the conversation happening around her. The woman loved to talk as much as Irina liked to gossip and it was surprising that they had not paired up by now. Of course, Jessica mostly liked talking about herself so I wondered how children would come into the conversation when she had none.

“Yes, a girl. Her name is Jane. She was born just before we moved here,” a real smile finally made its way to Victoria’s face. 

My stomach was falling lower.

“That’s so sweet,” Jessica exclaimed as she clasped her hands together under her chin. “I actually have some news of my own in that vein... This will be my last time out in a while. Michael and I are expecting.”

Of course. Now, all the ladies have babies or are expecting. Everyone except for me. 

Did I not deserve happiness?

That launched the women down the road of pregnancy and childbirth. Everyone had their own idea of the best way to get through it and were more than happy to share the joys and horrors of it all with Jessica. I did not think I would make it too much longer.

But luckily for me, salvation was not far off. Sensing my absolute misery, as rehearsed, after only another half hour of tea, and cakes, talk, and gossip, Alice stood and reminded everyone in the room about her responsibility to her own family. 

Reluctantly, the women began to say their goodbyes. Coats and mantles were retrieved, and carriages were hailed. One by one, and in pairs, they departed north and south to their own urban mansions of varying styles; all containing one waiting husband, and at least one, doll-faced child. How they deserved such lives, and I did not, I could not understand. 

Alice stuck around to help me decompress afterward. I needed some time in the conservatory to be amongst mother nature’s loving gift in the cold winter wasteland that was currently Chicago.

As we passed by the cloakroom, the door was ajar. Curiosity caught me, and I looked inside. There was still a purple stole and a dark grey coat hanging side by side. 

Both of the Masons were still here.


	7. Chapter 7

I put my finger to my lips and reached my hand out to stop Alice from going any further down the hallway.

“Look,” I let out a breath of a whisper and pointed into the cloakroom. I am glad my best friend is such a smart woman because understanding instantly dawned on her face.

I tucked myself into the cloakroom, and Alice followed before I quietly closed the door behind her.

“Victoria is still here … She did not leave with the others,” I informed her, still talking quietly. I had no proof, but the entire situation gave me an off feeling, and I would much rather err on the side of caution. 

“It’s strange for sure,” Alice nodded and looked at the gray coat and raised an eyebrow. 

“Mr. Mason is here as well,” I answered her unspoken question. 

“When did he arrive?” she asked, her eyebrows higher than ever. That both Masons were in my home was quite the mystery for Alice, and truthfully, for myself as well. Why Edward Mason was enlisting my husband’s help was beyond me. And the conversation I overheard before their arrival was still at the forefront of my mind. What was Victoria hiding from him?

“He arrived with Victoria,” I said before giving her a quick recap of the unusual interaction between the Masons. One might even call it an argument. 

“Odd … to say the least,” Alice commented, her eyebrows knit together in deep thought, likely trying to process exactly what was going on with the Masons. I saw you. The words spoken by Edward were still fresh in my mind. What had he seen?

“The question now is, where on earth is Victoria?” I said, as a sensation of foreboding passed through me. I did not like that woman. I did not trust her either. She seemed to be an even worse version of Irina. What was she capable of?

“Let’s go see,” Alice suggested before she quietly exited the cloakroom. I was not far behind.

Lucky for us, we had light footsteps as we walked back down the corridor to the sitting-room door. The pocket door was still open, and I peeked my head around the corner of the threshold.

There she was, sitting at my writing desk in the furthest corner, her hand furiously scribbling away on my stationery. My jaw dropped, and my brown eyes narrowed. The nerve of her! 

I did my best to back away and ushered Alice across the hall into the reception room. This was the second time today I had taken haven there.

“She’s sitting at my desk, writing a letter to God knows-who,” I whispered angrily to Alice. How rude Victoria was to use my desk, my pen, and my stationery without even asking.

“Do you think it has anything to do with what you told me about the argument between the Masons?” Alice whispered, trying to be helpful. 

I shrugged my shoulders slightly. It was impossible to say without further investigation. 

“Perhaps, but I’m not sure. Should I confront her?” I asked, knowing Alice would only ever give me the absolute best advice in such a strange situation. 

“We shouldn’t confront her, but follow my lead Bella,” Alice took charge confidentially. Without another word, she exited the reception room, looking to me. 

“My, Bella, I would say that was an extremely successful tea! Even with the cold,” Alice spoke loudly as she crossed the hall and headed back to the drawing room. 

Inside, we could both hear the rustling of paper and the scrape of my desk chair across the parquet floor. 

“Thank you for helping me, Alice, It was lovely catching up with all the ladies,” we faced each other in the threshold of the room, pretending not to see Victoria in the corner. 

The red-headed woman quickly came into view, batting at her purple skirts, a tempestuous smile on her lips.

“I apologize, Bella, I am still waiting for Edward to finish up with your husband,” she explained herself, still fiddling with the skirts of her gown. I can hear the soft crinkle of paper, and suddenly Victoria is coughing, a clear attempt at disguising the sound.

Alice and I share a knowing look.

“Don’t worry; you’re more than welcome to sit with us until the men finish,” I answered her with a fake smile. But inside, I am boiling. 

What on earth might she have been writing about that required her to do it away from her own home? My stationary carries my name and address; will the person who receives her writing think it has come from me?

“Shall we have more tea?” Alice suggested, going to sit at one of the recently vacated couches.

“Yes, of course. Victoria, let us have more tea while we wait for the men to be finished,” I agreed tightly, trying my very best to contain my annoyance. 

I sat down beside my best friend, leaving Victoria to sit down in one of the chairs across from us. While I was allowing her to stay in my home, I was no longer going to go out of my way to be especially hospitable. She would have to pour her own tea if she wanted it.

It seemed that for a few minutes, we stared at each other, waiting on the other to break away first. I could not tell if the glint in her blue eyes was one of mischief or pure wickedness. My suspicions were on the latter. There was certainly the feeling that she knew I had caught her, and she was daring me to say something. But I bit my tongue.

Finally, I tore my gaze away, afraid I might well and truly erupt with anger.

Alice felt the tension, and in true Alice fashion, immediately sprang into action to dissipate it. 

“So, Victoria,” she began, pouring the last of the tea into a cup for the red-head, and handing it over. “I’m not sure if it was discussed today, but how are you taking to Chicago?”

It was such a polite question. But I did not care how Victoria was enjoying Chicago. Perhaps I was still too mad, but I now saw her in a completely negative light. The strange, aloof air about her, coupled with the fight she had with Edward, and now this treacherous use of my personal letterhead to write letters to a mystery correspondent, have cemented her as a negative person, and one I hoped to not associate with further.

I know that I was one of the first to jump to her defense in the eyes of the social circle, but this is something I know I will be unable to get around in the future. Besides, now that it seems Irina is interested in her, she does not need my help any longer. 

“Well, it’s much bigger than Cleveland,” she started, holding the teacup from Alice in her hand but not drinking from it. In my opinion, she looked bored to still be with us. But there was something else besides disinterest in her demeanor. 

She reminded me of a wild animal that was being kept in a much too small cage. There was just an odd energy currently emanating from her. Maybe she really was waiting for me to snap at her. If that was the case, I would not give her the satisfaction.

I decided to throw myself earnestly into the conversation. Maybe it would prove to be to my own benefit. 

“I’ve never been to Ohio, but I’m sure Chicago is bigger than most places,” I chuckled pleasantly. It felt all wrong, to be attempting this conversation with Victoria, knowing that she was up to something, and involving me in the process. 

Victoria did not laugh with me; her blue eyes were set in that same strange manner, looking at Alice and me, but also looking beyond us. I had half a mind to turn my head and see if there was something behind me. But something else told me that whatever Victoria was looking at did not exist in this room.

“But I miss it terribly,” she finally spoke, her eyes finally focusing back on the here and now, her wild attitude from before melted into something quite vulnerable. It was unnerving. Victoria did not strike me as the type of person who would ever willingly show any type of vulnerability. From the short amount of time I have known her, she has always looked to have the upper hand in every situation.

Alice, of course began, to look at the other woman with concern. And yet I could not feel the same way. A nagging voice in the back of my head told me that she was putting on a big act.

“Of course. I cannot even imagine how I would feel if Jasper moved us away from everything we have ever known here in Chicago,” Alice agreed with her eyebrows knit together with empathy. 

I felt the hairs on my arms stand up as a sudden thought popped into my head. Perhaps it was all connected - moving to Chicago, the argument, and the note. Had the Masons moved from all they knew because of something Victoria was involved in and unable to let go of?

I decided to press Victoria for answers.

“What do you miss the most?” I asked, trying to keep my voice soft and full of faux concern. Her blue eyes suddenly locked onto mine, and a furrow worked its way into her forehead as her brows narrowed in annoyance. I swear it is the first imperfection I have ever seen in her perfectly smooth skin. Clearly, my terrible acting did not convince her.

Her mouth opened to say something, and judging by the glint in her eyes, it was not going to be anything nice.

But the sudden sound of thundering footfalls on marble caused it to shut as her head snapped towards the sound.

“Victoria, we’re leaving!” Edward’s voice boomed down the hall and into the drawing room. He sounded mad, incredibly so. 

When his figure finally appeared in the doorway, he was carrying his coat and Victoria’s purple mantle in his arms, and looking incredibly aggravated and impatient. Even so, with his brows set in a hard line, and his mouth turned down, he was still incredibly handsome.

I wondered if Jacob might tell me what has caused Edward’s bad mood. Knowing we have hardly talked in days, I sincerely doubted it.

Victoria stood at once, setting down her teacup as she did so. There was an almost defiant look in her eyes, as though she might tell her husband that she would stay. Except, it would only hurt her to do so. I know she wanted to leave my home just as badly as I wanted her to. 

“Coming, dear,” she answered him with the same slight mocking intonation on the pet name as she had when they arrived. 

Clearly having no patience for his wife, he all but tossed the purple coat into her arms before turning on his heel and storming down the hall, donning his jacket and hat before I lost sight of him. The front door was could be heard opening and then slamming roughly, causing the lead glass panes to reverberate in their frames, the sound trailing all the way back to the drawing room. 

Yes, Edward Mason was very, very mad.

Victoria smiled meekly, knowing that appearance was everything, and what just transpired was enough to get the gossip mill going if Alice and I were to let these events spread. 

“Thank you very much, your home is truly lovely,” she tried to end things on a positive note as she wrapped her mantle around her shoulders before seeing herself out of the drawing room. I simply nodded, not sure yet what I was going to do about what happened today. 

I heard Mr. Peters open the door, exchange a quick goodbye with Victoria before the door closed, much gentler this time. 

Finally, the Masons were gone.

Alice looked at me with brows raised, for once at a slight loss for words, “What an odd couple they are.” 

I could say nothing in return, still shocked from the whole of it, and also knowing I ought not throw stones in my own house of glass. I, too, was part of a very odd couple, the half of which I hope my best friend will never find out about. Jacob’s heartbreaking secret is one I intend to take to my lonely grave.

But the question remained, why had Edward been so angry in the first place? What had first seemed a mild annoyance was clearly something deep and faceted and personal. 

As far as I was concerned, it was likely one of three things: His wife, who was clearly up to something behind his back, my foolish husband and his recent lack of legal acumen, or perhaps it had to do with his business venture. I would never gamble, but I would put money on the root of his troubles being his wife. I would also bet that my foolish husband also has had something to do with it. 

Regardless, now that I have been personally involved, I intend to find out what it was all about.


End file.
